Flight of the Wild Geese
It was a tiresome night,
Dreary and damp.
I sat beside the window
As rivulets streamed down.
As weary as I feel
I have to wonder;
Was it a night such as this
When wild geese fled their home?
So many as these were
It must surely have been so.
Weather to match their mood,
Winging from shores never seen again.
Were the seas frothing,
Tinged with a sign of sorrow?
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